Pray Tell
by ohprongs
Summary: "A problem shared is a problem halved" - English proverb. L/J friendship!fic.


**A/N: **I'm particularly proud of the name of the Potions book. I might suggest it to WB for when they re-make the films and Dan Rad plays Dumbles.

**Warnings:** T for language; if you don't like swearing turn around now.

**Disclaimer:** Jo owns, bless her cotton socks for allowing us to use her work.

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><p><em>Flos Immortelle<em>, she scrawled, hastily copying down notes from The Punctilious Potioneer Volume II, _more commonly known as the Everlasting Flower, has many properties in potion-making, but none more prominent than the use of the sap from the tuber at its base. When used in the correct manner, distilled Flos Immortelle fluid can produce a life-saving elixir and although if drunk regularly the liquid is said to bring immortality (see Chapter Eight for further notes about supposed death-preventing potions) the known side-effects of drinking a concoction made with the wrong quantities of the sap are particularly horrific._

Lily groaned and slammed her quill down on the table. She heard _tsks_ from Madam Pince's direction and decided to leave the library for a more suitable work room where she could huff in peace. Gathering up the assorted papers and books and stuffing them in her already crammed full satchel, she made to leave only to hear a tearing rip that broke both her heart, and bag, in two.

"_Reparo_," she muttered hastily, hiding her red face behind a curtain of hair.

Lily Evans was not having a good day.

Yesterday evening Marlene had burst into the girls' dormitory in floods of tears, sobbing about how that bloody Fenprick was a liar, a cheat, a user and general toe-rag, explaining that she didn't know why she was with him in the first place: he was a lazy, two-faced, good-for-nothing prat; and Lily had stayed up into the early hours to comfort her.

As a consequence, she had overslept, and in her rush to shower and get ready at double speed she had succeeded in losing her Potions prep, which, she presumed, was now lurking mischievously under her bed where it was flung in a flurry of clothes as she had searched for her other sock (it was hiding under a towel, the little bugger).

She'd flown down the stairs and crashed into James - of all people to crash into, when she really didn't have time but would have loved nothing more than to stop and chat - in the Common Room. "Whoa! Watch out, Evans," he'd grinned. His face flooded with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Sorry." She went about her search for that dastardly essay. She knew it must be here somewhere…

"Oh, Lily, did you have time to finish the schedules yet?"

"Shit!" she'd cried, sitting up abruptly and whacking her elbow on the chair. Cursing her rotten luck she hurried over to him and said, "No, I'm really sorry. I'll do them later though, I promise." She rubbed a hand over her arm and sighed. "I slept in late and I couldn't find half my clothes and I've lost my homework and Slughorn'll kill me and now I've missed breakfast and I'm really sorry…I've got to go, James."

She'd given him a small smile that was really more of a grimace and dashed off to Potions. Eventually she arrived at the dungeons, late, breathless and flushed, earnestly promising Professor Slughorn that he would have his homework in by the end of the day, that she was just 'finalising' it. He had smiled jovially and let her off, the only respite of the day.

As she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower, Lily sighed wearily. Her bag was digging into her shoulder, which was already sore from having lugged the thing round all day, and what she really wanted was to lie down in a quiet room and sleep for approximately one thousand years.

However, we don't always get what we want, and as she muttered, "_Tumbleweed_," and the Fat lady swung forward, she was greeted with a barrage of noise. She surveyed the room, murmuring soundlessly something that might have sounded like, "What in the name of Merlin's baggy Y-fronts?", but one can never be sure.

The first years (who had been at the school less than two months but still acted like they owned the Common Room) were sprawled out on the floor and flinging Every-Flavour Beans around, each vying to taste the most disgusting sweet and live to tell the tale.

The second years were playing loud games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap; one pair were even attempting to play both simultaneously; the winner of this new game seemed no longer to be whomever could get the most pairs but the witch or wizard to knock the most card houses down by a skilful shot with a gobstone.

Then there were the Marauders, cracking jokes, gesturing wildly and laughing loudly with those - those _bloody_ stupid girls hanging off their _every bloody word_, cackling along with the boys at things they probably didn't even understand.

In the end, she told herself, it was the fourth-years that did it. The annoying, jigging fourth-years that insisted on dancing their way through the portrait hole and into the Common Room yelling, "They did it! They did it! England made it through! They did it! They did it! England made it th-"

Seconds of silence reigned before every head turned in the direction of the fuming witch who had just whistled loudly.

"Listen," Lily said softly, "to that."

A couple blank looks were sent her way.

"Silence," she explained frustratedly. "Silence. No sounds, no noise, none of that ridiculous racket -" she glared at the fourth-years, who glared back unashamedly "- that you lot were making. Please, people, calm down. It's nearly nine thirty, anyway. Most first and second-years should be in their dorms."

This statement was met by a mutinous muttering from the younger students, but they did (albeit reluctantly) troop up to their rooms.

"Hey!" a voice called, as Lily turned to put her bag down. She noticed the tall figure of Callum McLaggen, an obnoxious boy who'd been amongst the revellers.

"What?" she said icily.

He strutted over to her, cheered on by his friends who had hissed when Lily imposed the curfew. "You," he said menacingly, "can't tell us what to do."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "No, you're right. I can't."

He smiled nastily, satisfied she was agreeing. "But," she continued, "I am a seventh-year. And Head Girl. And the top of the Charms class which, as aforementioned status as a seventh-year would suggest, means I'm the best at Charms in the whole school. So I suggest you _do_ do what I say, lest I make you."

He stared at her. The catcallers had fallen silent.

"Now," she hissed.

James, frequently on the receiving end of Lily's threats, chuckled at the speed at which the Gryffindors vacated the room. So much for bravery, he mused.

"Are you okay?" James asked as she stormed past the chairs that the Marauders occupied.

"Yeah, I'm just fine," she snapped, sounding close to tears.

The boys exchanged looks, Sirius glancing at his best friend and shrugging. Remus winced sympathetically, and the conversation returned to its previous topic. They sat talking for a little longer before Peter stretched, yawned, and pleasantly announced that he needed to sleep or else he would be as useless as a Flobberworm tomorrow, to which Sirius remarked that he was that useless anyway. Peter punched the boy on the shoulder good-naturedly before heading up to their dorms, and the other two followed suit. Only James remained in the deserted room while his housemates lay sleeping, and he sat alone on the sofa, watching the last flames in the fireplace die away. The Marauder's Map perched next to him and he checked it when he heard footsteps on the staircase.

"You know, for someone who was 'fine', you didn't look too good," he said.

Lily looked around, startled. "I thought you were supposed to compliment witches, not mock them," she said sullenly. "How did you know it was me anyway?"

He wiped the map and pushed it out of sight. "I have my ways," James said mysteriously. "My Inner Eye sensed you."

She smiled and took a seat next to him, pushing his feet off the sofa to make room for herself. Rather unhelpfully at this point in time, James just _had_ to notice that she was wearing a rather tight vest top that clung to her curves, leaving the pale and slightly freckled skin of her arms and shoulders showing, her copper curls winding about her neck and back, daring him to reach out and tuck them behind her ear-

"You were never the best at Divination, I seem to recall."

"Well, we can't all be 'the top of the class, and therefore the school'," he teased, pushing his unholy thoughts to the very back of his mind.

"Shut up," Lily moaned. "I'm tired and logic isn't my strong point."

"No, no, I'm not insulting you actually. McLaggen's an arse," he said cheerfully. "He needed to be brought down a peg or two, and I'm _so_ glad you were the one to do it."

"He's on the team though, isn't he?"

James grunted. "I have to do what's best for the House. Unfortunately, he's quite good," he added. "Not as good as myself, I must say, but…"

Lily pursed her lips and made a non-committal sound. They sat awhile watching the glowing embers in the fireplace before James spoke again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, somewhat unconvincingly.

"Right. Want to talk about nothing?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Sure? I'm not just a Seer, you know. I've got an Inner Ear that's awfully good at listening," he joked. "Spill the beans?"

Lily allowed him a light laugh.

"What? What's funny?"

She was still smiling as she said, "I haven't heard that in a long time, that's all. My mum used to say it to me. She'd pull me on to her lap and tickle my tummy until I talked. Reminded me of the past, you know?"

James grinned. "I'm all for pulling you onto my lap…"

She shot him a look but the smile didn't falter. She sighed.

"It's just…I try so hard all the bloody time and I have to work twice as hard as everybody else for half the credit. As I was leaving class today Mulciber sneered that the only reason Slughorn had let me off the deadline was because I was going to suck him off later. He doesn't want to believe that I could be better than him at something because of who my parents are.

"My sister, a Muggle, she thinks I'm a freak because I can do magic, but other witches and wizards treat me like shit because I'm related to people like her. I can't win. Either way, someone hates me. And it's not fair. It's not fucking fair," she finished bitterly, looking away at the deserted room.

Whatever James was expecting, it wasn't that.

He didn't really know what to say to it, either. So he scooted over to her and pulled her to him in a tight hug, and found, to his surprise, that she didn't resist.

"Lily," he murmured into her hair. "Lily."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that," she told him, blushing a deep crimson.

"Inever hated you," James said suddenly. "You pissed me off a little with your incessant rejections but I never hated you."

"Yeah, well, you royally pissed me off with _your _incessant offers," she giggled.

"Why do you think your sister hates you?" the wizard asked. "You don't have to say if you don't want to."

"I don't _think_ she hates me. I _know_ she hates me."

"She invited you to her wedding, didn't she?"

Lily scoffed. "Only 'cause Dad made her. How do you -" she poked him in the chest, "- know that? Spying on me?"

Now it was James' chance to turn a shade of scarlet. "I heard you talking about it with Alice last week," he confessed.

Lily settled against him, deciding the gesture wasn't too forward. "Oh," was all she offered.

"I do love a good wedding. Pray tell?"

"…It hasn't happened yet."

"I know that, you dolt. I meant tell me about your sister."

"Oh," she said again. Lily took a breath. "Okay."

As she talked, Lily realised why her Mum used to get her to spill the beans. Why Marlene could smile again by sunrise. She knew now that to halve her problems, she had to share them. But perhaps most importantly, she realised who she wanted to share them with.

So when he came to find her the next morning with a smile and completed Prefect schedules after they'd fallen asleep together, she thanked him and smiled back. And when she found out from a giggling Mary that, even with Professor Flitwick's advanced knowledge, Mulciber's robes had turned a shocking magenta with beautiful white embroidered lilies that naught could remove due to the fierce nature of the charm, she smiled even more.

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><p><strong>Reviews are James Potter comforting me after a <strong>_**really**_** bad day I had last week.**


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